A song on repeat.
A mattress on the floor is all we needed.
I sang to you as we made love.
Alone in an empty room,
you pushed your heart into mine,
and I could never get it out.
Here, my mind roaming amidst fields of sunflowers, that song brings your heart back.
The way you kiss my neck and mumble I love you.
Across the world from you, for you.
And you loved me for all my in-betweens.
All my broken hearted dreams.
I held your back tight on that bare mattress
and I loved you with all that I had.
All that i have ever allowed myself to give.
And the last quote of my heart is yours.
And for all my pauses I have found something continuous in you.
I will always be a certain way.
Too much. Too difficult. Too easy to feel.
And here I am alone.
It is not my heart and yours.
I let the Mediterranean Sea caress my naked chest, touch my heart in a way
that previously only you could,
I stopped and wondered which beat,
which wave, which song was yours and which was mine?
Can I ever escape the destiny that is yours, separate from mine, or are the two always to be
so succinctly intertwined.
And over this song, over any foreign language, over any place i go running away from the memory of you, I hear your voice every time I stop to listen.
And your heart is still stuck in mine.